


Thicker Than Water

by julesver



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Abuse, Drama, Family, Incest, M/M, Romance, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-12 20:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11169867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julesver/pseuds/julesver
Summary: After the tragedy of his mother’s death, Mihashi Ren was adopted into the Abe household. With them, he found the warmth of a family that he craved but never really had. One day, a terrible secret threatens to destroy the idyllic normalcy of his new family. Desperate to protect them, Ren took up it’s burden on it’s own, only to crumble at the touch of his new brother.





	1. Chapter 1

Hospitals are not a pleasant place to be in. It reminds people of death, and no matter how cheery the décor might be, the association has never been lost. Even the scent of harsh antiseptic is enough to make a grown man nervous. However, a young boy doesn’t feel that way. For a 7 year old Mihashi Ren, that scent is as synonymous to his mother as the smell of freshly laundered sheets.

She’s been bedridden for more than a year now, unconscious to the world around her. A stranger could take one look and mistake her for a corpse, but the young Mihashi knew better. In his eyes, his mother is as alive as anyone else. The beeps and hums of the machines are her laughs, and the blinking LEDs are her eyes, carefully watching over her dutiful son as he chatters away about his day. 

The boy spends his days between the hospital and his cousin’s house, although he prefers to stay in the sterile ICU than in his cousin’s crowded living room. Staying with his relatives feels a lot like drowning. Their boisterous personality dominating the room, relegating the young nervous boy into mere furniture. He doesn’t like being invisible like that. At first they tried to accommodate him as best as they could, but as time passed, even their kindness turned into apathy.

On an oppressively humid summer evening, Mihashi’s refuge was invaded. The usually empty hospital room was filled by a group of men dressed in expensive black suits. They turned to the boy when he opened the door, and like any polite child, Mihashi bowed closed the door, thinking that he must’ve walked into the wrong room. 

Before he could hear the door click, a kindly nurse rushes over to take his hand.

“He’s here doctor.” She said, handing Mihashi’s clammy hand over to a kind looking woman in a long lab coat. Mihashi saw her before but for the life of him couldn’t seem to remember her name.

She took off her pink stethoscope and put her cartoon-covered file aside. “Good morning Ren-kun!” She said in that fake cheeriness that most pediatricians are trained to have. Mihashi instinctively jerked away, only to bump against one of the mean looking men that littered around his mother’s bed.

The doctor sighed and smiled sadly. The boy was like a panicked animal. She pulled him closer and tried her best to explain everything; how they’ve been trying so hard to keep his mother alive, how they’ve reached the limits of her ability, and how there was no more brain activity in her. She threaded carefully and told hi how they’re going to turn off her life support, “So she can rest without all the noise from the machine.”

Mihashi knew what she was going to say before she even opened his mouth, but hearing that confirmation was dashed whatever futile hope he was still clinging onto. So like a child who’s had enough of pretending to be strong, Mihashi wailed.

He trashed and screamed and kicked around until he was red in the face, catching the doctor with one of his flailing fist. He knew that he was being bad, but why should he care about being good ? There was nobody to pet his head and say “What a good boy.” His mother is dead. There was no reason to be in his best behavior, to hold on to hope. There was no reason to go on.

Then the man stepped in.

He was like a bear incarnate with his broad shoulders and gruff voice. “You stop that now.” He growled, putting his large hand on Mihashi’s shoulder. The weight of it was enough to flinch the boy into silence. Mihashi quickly closed his eyes, preparing for a slap that he had come to expect from living with his relatives. It never came.

Instead the bear-like-man just stood there, looking like he was as close to crying as he was.

The stranger picked the boy up with ease, holding Mihashi’s head against his firm chest. Mihashi recoiled back, his senses assaulted by the unfamiliar scent of aftershave and tobacco. “It’s okay boy.” The man said hoarsely, holding him down against his body at a terrible attempt at a hug. 

Mihashi pulled against him with all of his might, but his small body was no match against an adult. Eventually he stopped resisting and melted into the embrace, the scent of cigarettes blooming in his nose, covering the lovely scent of hospital antiseptic that he used to love.


	2. Chapter 2

Mihashi only heard a few second of his mother flatlining before the man took him out of the room, barking random orders to the men in black suits and shades. The doctors and nurses murmured condolences under their breaths, but their voices didn’t reach Mihashi’s ear. At this point the boy had no more tears to cry. He kept his golden eyes trained on the hospital door, knowing full well that this might be the last time he’ll see that familiar grey door.

“Are you done with your crying boy?” The man asked, his voice impossibly grave and serene at the same time. Mihashi turned to him, biting his lips nervously as an answer. The man stared back, the hard lines on his face melting as he studied Mihashi’s red face. “My God. You really do look like her.” he muttered, rubbing the remnant of a tear from the corner of Mihashi’s eyes. 

The boy sniffled and buried his face on the collar of his suit, squinting his eyes shut as hard as he could. He didn’t want to hear about his mother. Not now. Not ever. 

“Yeah, I’ll miss her too.” The man grunted, holding Mihashi a little bit tighter against his chest. 

A few people came over and tried to take him away from the man, but Mihashi held on like a stubborn kitten dangling on a curtain. Anyone else might’ve scold him for wrinkling their clothes like that, but the man only chuckled and gave him a gentle squeeze “Alright, alright. I’ll let you rest here for a while.” He said with a gentle voice that doesn’t quite match his face. 

The way his voice booms in his chest made Mihashi feel safe, like the rumbling of a dragon keeping watch over a princess in a castle.

With that fantastical image playing in his head, Mihashi fell into a deep slumber, his small body collapsing after holding up against the grief and tragedy of today. He couldn’t remember how his mother’s voice sounded like, for his ears were filled with the comforting rumble of a kindly dragon. For that, he was grateful, because remembering was too painful, and right now the boy would rather just forget.


	3. Chapter 3

Muffled chuckles pulled Mihashi away out of his dreamless sleep. He stirred lightly, only to fall back onto the firm chest that pillows his head.

“Can it Tajima.” The man snapped just above a whisper, kicking the driver’s seat as a warning. “You’ll wake the boy.”

“Sorry Oyassan.” A younger voice answered cheerily, taking his hand off the steering wheel so he could turn down the radio.

“No, no. Leave it on. They’re getting to the good part.” 

The occupants of the car fell into a reverent silence as they listened to the rakugo station. The narrator weaved his tale of intrigue and deceit, one voice morphing into dozens of characters, taking complete control of these hardened men’s imagination. Then out of nowhere the car erupted in raucous laughter, sending a wide- eyed Mihashi up with a jolt.

The boy jumped up as he came face to face with the man. Laughter was splashed all over his face, but the edges of his eyes are raw and red, with barely visible lines of tears trailing down his cheeks. Mihashi swallowed hard and turned away, feeling like he saw something that he’s not supposed to.

“Guess we woke you up anyways, huh?” The man grinned, ruffling Mihashi’s straw blond hair. “Tajima, pull up to the driveway. We’re ready to go in now.”

The young driver replied energetically, starting the ignition and began driving uphill to face an intimidatingly large gate. The stone fences are lined with tall bamboos, creating a natural fortress against onlookers. As the metal gates swing open, Mihashi couldn’t help himself from staring in awe. It was like driving into an old Japanese castle, with guards in black suits instead of armors and swords.

All kinds of people lined up and bowed to the car. Old men in expensive suits, young men with gold chains draped around their necks, men with tattoos and scars, men who looked like they fit better in a bank, men who looked like they wouldn’t fit in anywhere; they all bend at the waist just to greet them. The man grunted in reply, barely noticing the crowds as he carried Mihashi out of the car and into menacing old manor.

Mihashi has never met anyone who can command such respect. His eyes twinkled in admiration as he reached up to touch the man’s scraggly beard. “Hm? What you want, boy?” The man asked, a hint of a smile playing in his eyes as he lowered them to meet Mihashi. 

The boy shivered at the sight of his sharp eyes. “Who are you? Why am I here? Why are these people bowing at you?” Millions of question raced through his mind, and every one of them died at his lips. All he managed to sound off is a terrified chirp, and after that pathetic attempt, Mihashi was too intimidated to try again. Nevertheless the man noticed his effort and gave him a smile. 

“It’s okay, boy.” He hummed affectionately, letting the boy fall back onto his shoulder. Mihashi made a satisfied noise and nestled closer to his chest. The man couldn’t hide his smile. He was completely smitten. 

All his life Takashi Abe was always surrounded by violence. He knew no other way to live. As a child he helped his brother smuggle in liquor and prostitutes. In his teens he waged violent gang war and won territories. At his prime, the Takashi Abe crowned himself as Oyabun, and with the title came wayward men, all eager to serve and profit under him. 

It took him decades of blood, sweat, and tear reach this position, and never once he had he ever experienced the profound joy of taking care of someone so small and helpless.

“Oyassan!”  
“Oyassan!”  
“Oyassan!”

Boisterous greetings welcomed him as he walked into a tatami room filled with even more men in suits. Only the group’s inner circles are allowed here, men who have bleed and toiled for the organization and proved themselves to be loyal. None of them asked about the boy, but Takashi knew that they were more than curious. He’s not the type who keeps pets or show affection, so seeing him walk in with a boy cradled in his arms is enough to make even the oldest members gape in confusion.

Unsurprisingly Mihashi did not enjoy the attention.

The boy’s grip tightened as he tried his best to disappear into the folds of the man’s suit. Takashi grunted in annoyance and jostled the boy lightly, making him freeze in place. Then he began to tremble, and tears started welling up again.

“Oyassan, is he okay?” Tajima asked timidly, but even his small voice was enough to make the boy flinch and sob. The whole room grimaced, all of them unaccustomed with the grating sound of a crying child.

“The hell if I know.” Takashi grumbled, confused by Mihashi’s sudden outburst. “Go and fetch Takaya for me. Maybe he’ll calm down when he see’s another brat in the room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes on new words!
> 
> Rakugo: A form of Japanese theater, narrated by one person.  
> Oyabun: Head of a Yakuza Organization. Literal meaning: Foster father.  
> Oyassan: How Yakuza members refer to their Oyabun.


	4. Chapter 4

There is nothing stranger than arriving in a room full of heartless Yakuza fussing over a crying boy.

Takaya looked upon the scene with clear disdain written on his face. The last time he was here the atmosphere was far more tense and heavy. Men in suit all sit in silence, nodding along as his father gave some long-winded speech about the future. You’re going to be the next head of this organization. These men will support you, so live your life and bring honor to our name. The weight of his father’s words shook the young boy so much that he couldn’t sleep at all that night.

Now it seems they’ve cornered yet another young boy as their victim, but instead of sitting around him disapprovingly, these old men are bending over backwards trying to stop him from crying. 

'Honor my ass.' He thought, stepping over a distraught looking gangster who's in the middle of offering up his watch to placate the crying boy. There was nothing honorable about the scene.

People parted to make way for him, whispering “Bocchan” as he walked, awe hinting at the acknowledgement. Takaya never liked that title. In fact, he hated it. All he ever wanted was to be called 'Takaya-kun', but in this house people insist on calling him ‘young master’. 

It irritates him to no end. 

'I’m just a son of a yakuza boss. I’m nobody important.' He thought bitterly. He's lost friends because of that stupid title. Parents would tell their kids not to play with him. "He's the son of a mobster. Better steer clear from him." They would say.

The closest person he had to a friend was his bodyguard Hanai, and he doesn’t even like that overly stuck up baldy.

“Takaya!” His father welcomed him, relieved that there’s another boy in the room.

“What.” Takaya snapped, scattering away the men who huddled around his father like pigs on a troth. “I have to go to school soon-“

He couldn’t even finish his sentence. His deep black eyes are drawn into a pair of golden orbs, brimming with tears that sparkled in the light. On his father’s lap sat the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. Though his face was red from all the crying, Takaya thought that they reminded him of a blush on a crisp apple. It was the first time he was ever been petrified by beauty, and Takaya wished that time would stand still.

Nevertheless, the hand of the clock ticked on. In that one specific second Takaya was enamored by the boy, and in the next one he completely broke his heart.

Mihashi shuddered at the sight of the mean looking boy and promptly began to cry. Again.

The room of yakuza groaned in unison and buried their head in their hands. They look like they were ready to offer up their pinkie for failing to keep the blond boy happy. “Goddamit Takaya.” Takashi tutted and stood up, resorting to bouncing Mihashi like a baby. “Your fucking face made him cry. You’re definitely Yakuza material.”

“Wha- I’m-!” Takaya looked like he was going to start another legendary father-son argument, but he figured it would only serve to proving his father’s point. So he sat down instead, folding his hand over his chest. “I’m not Yakuza material.” He mumbled with an uncharacteristically small voice.

He shot the boy a worried look. “I’m sorry that my face made you cry.” He mumbled again, his face burning up, embarrassed for apologizing for something so silly. On the corner of the room Hanai wiped a proud tear from the corner of his eyes. The young master never apologized before. He’s far too prideful for that. Seeing him all apologetic made Hanai feel like all the nagging that he’s done actually made an impact.

The young boy hiccupped and peeked over Takashi’s shoulder, blinking curiously at how timid the scary boy sounded. He looked upset. Did he feel bad for glaring? Maybe he’s also a good person like his father? Mihashi sniffled and wiped his nose, deciding that he would stop crying. Broken words escaped his lips, the stutter reflecting how hard he’s trying. Ultimately he only managed a small squeak out before falling completely silent again.

Takashi grinned, feeling incredibly proud at Mihashi for trying so hard. He gave the blond boy a gentle squeeze before setting him down in front of his son. “Now say it to his face Takaya.” The man said teasingly. Takaya glared at him, but before he could protest, Mihashi leaped forward and caught him in a full body hug.

“Ta-Taka…ya?” He asked, looking up hesitantly as if asking for permission to say his name. Takaya blushed and nodded, his mind going completely blank. Mihashi beamed and gave him another hug, this time his hold was firmer, more secure. “Takaya.” He repeated again, his voice brimming with contentment. Then, after a few seconds of silence his grip began to loosen and his small body leaned heavily onto Takaya’s. Everyone in the room breathe a sigh of relief as the boy gently fell into slumber. 

This was the second time that Mihashi fell asleep in the arms of a stranger. 

Takaya held the boy awkwardly with his arms, trying hard to jostle him awake. Suddenly he was painfully aware of how soft Mihashi was, how good he smelled, and how all he wanted to do is to fall asleep right next to him.

Takashi stifled a laughter and turned his head away. Unbelievable. That loudmouth son of his was tamed by a crybaby. He couldn’t wait to tell his wife.

“S-s-shut up!” Takaya hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just holding him up so he wouldn’t fall to the floor!” He exclaimed to the crowd of snickering old men.

The oyabun hid his smile and nodded sagely, trying his best to save his son’s pride by faking indifference. He quickly shooed the rest of his men out of the room, moving their weekly meetings to the dining hall instead. Just before he left the room Takashi stole one last glance at his son. Takaya was stroking Mihashi’s spiky blond hair, but his hands barely grazed the tips of Mihashi’s hair for fear of disturbing his sleep.

That stolen moment sparked an idea within Takashi’s mind. His son has always been difficult to handle. He’s fiercely passionate about everything but the organization. If left alone, Takaya is sure to walk away from the Yakuza way of life, but with Mihashi on his side… “This could work.” Takashi grinned, deciding that taking Mihashi in was the best decision after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that chapter. Leave a comment or a few kudos if you do :)


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

Despite growing up in a household full of criminals and mobsters, both Mihashi and Takaya had a surprisingly idyllic childhood.

 

As a result of his father’s suspicious dealings, Takaya grew up never wanting anything. While he does have his own spoiled rich kid moments- tantrums and the like- for the most part Takaya lived as a normal boy, and for everything he had in excess, he gladly shared it with Mihashi.

 

They shared a room together, two boys huddled together in one futon until their growth spurt forced them into separate beddings. They joined a little league together, working tirelessly in the same battery in some elite team his father sponsored. Nobody ever claimed favoritism though, because the result in clear. There is no battery that could outdo the two. Then, when practice was over, they would walk home together and wash the day’s exertion away from each other’s back.

 

Not even real brothers are as close as those two boys.

 

To an outsider, the relationship may seemed one sided. After seeing Takaya bark out gruff orders to a trembling Mihashi, anyone would come to that logical conclusion. In the past, a teacher even came to Mihashi and asked whether he was being bullied.

 

Mihashi only shook his head timidly. He couldn’t fully express it then but his feelings stayed the same. He loved Takaya’s overbearing nature. When he’s alone, Mihashi felt like one of the background in a scenery-forgettable, mundane. However, when he’s with Takaya, he feels like the center of his universe. He feels loved.

 

Mihashi didn’t expect anyone to understand that warped little logic of his. After all, it’s hard to explain the joy of being seen to someone who never been invisible.

 

* * *

 

 

“Ren. You’re going to spill food all over yourself, idiot.” Takaya grumbled disapprovingly, reaching over to steady Mihashi’s bowl.

 

The blond only grinned bashfully, his body humming with excitement over Takaya’s attention. Mihashi is in a good mood today. Not only are they graduating from middle school soon, but they also won their first little league championships last week. He could still remember the last inning vividly, how his ball managed to shoot past the league’s best batter and found his way into Takaya’s gloves.

 

 _“Takaya is so amazing. Thank you so much for catching for me.”_ -is what he wanted to say, but instead, Mihashi’s mouth gaped open and close until they settled into a nervous smile.

 

Takaya frowned. “Will you wipe that grin off your face and finish your breakfast. We’re going to be late for school.” Mihashi jolted and pulled his food bowl close, practically inhaling his food at Takaya’s order

 

“Holy fuck… will you stop nagging for one minute? It’s not even seven yet and you’re already mothering him to death.” A gruff voice could be heard from the other side of the dining table. Takaya’s loud voice cuts through his father’s hangover like a heated blade through butter, and Takashi could do without his incessant badgering.

 

“I don’t need to listen to someone who doesn’t even have their shirt on.” Takaya shot back, his voice show just how unimpressed he is by his father’s state of undress.

 

“You’ll listen to me because I’m the one who puts food on the table you insolent brat.”

 

“…. Say’s the person who who hiked up rent prices so people couldn’t afford to live in their homes, you good for nothing loansha-“

 

“I’M DONE!” Mihashi slammed his hand on the table, almost leaping off the chair from the sheer force of it. The two turned their unconscious glares at Mihashi, whose only defense was to tremble and whimper pathetically. Takaya sighed and rubbed the space between his eyes. Why is he getting this worked up so early in the morning?

 

“We’re going.” He said coldly, pulling hiking up both Mihashi and his bag up in one arm.

 

“Ah- wait- Taka…ya. Greetings- wait.” Mihashi slipped from Takaya’s firm hold to run over to Takashi. Takaya had to hold off from rolling his eyes. “I’m off, Oyassan.” The boy said said, smiling brightly for the patriarch.

 

Takashi put his newspaper away, his glares melting into a fatherly smile as he ruffled the boy’s already messy blond hair. “Hm. Have a good day.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Takaya grumbled, pulling Mihashi aside to fix his hair, as if that was enough to erase his father’s imprint on the boy. It shouldn’t bother him that Mihashi almost always prefers his father’s touch to his. After all, the man did picked him up from a house full of neglectful relatives. Nevertheless the tiny lizard brain in his head irrationally seethes whenever he sees Mihashi smile for his father.

 

 _‘He should only be looking at me like that.’_ He thought, his fingers tightening around Mihashi’s wrist to accentuate that fact. Mihashi noticed the harsh hold and accepted it quietly. He was used to this, to Takaya.

 

The walked past the long hall that separates the opulent main house and their modest family quarters, passing his father’s underlings that greeted them with their loud voice. Takaya ignored them for the most part, but Mihashi made sure to acknowledge every one’s excited greeting. They’re a part of his new family after all, and he wanted to make sure that he fits in.

 

In the courtyards they almost ran past a beautiful figure wrapped in long blue yukata. “Ah- wait Takaya…!” Mihashi stopped dead on his tract, this time pulling Takaya towards his mother. “Ane-san is…We shouldn’t ignore-” He stuttered, his voice quieting down into a whisper.

 

Takaya glanced at his mother’s lonely back, feeling a twinge of guilt for trying to run off like that. “Fine. Fine.” He sighed, trudging across the large garden to approach his mother.

 

She sat on a stone bench overlooking a large Koi pond, sharp eyes watching over the young underlings who are cleaning the garden tirelessly. “Ah, Takaya.” Misae Abe turned around, her veneer of cold indifference breaking open to reveal a motherly smile. She put down her cup of tea and stood up to fuss over his collar.

 

“I’m off to school.” He said, sounding almost sedated as he endured the fiddling of his mother’s busy hands.

 

“Alright, have a good day then.” Her smile turned to apprehension when he caught sight of Mihashi in the distance, fidgeting under her like a mouse under a hawk’s sharp gaze. “Really Takaya, you’re still hanging around that boy?” Takaya glanced back at Mihashi and shrugged indifferently, his lips tightening into a thin line. “Your obsession with that orphan is almost as bad as your father’s.”

 

“Don’t call him that.” Takaya growled, brushing her hands away. Misae frowned.

 

“You’re as stubborn as your father too.”

 

Takaya sighed.

 

“You are. You even look like him when he was younger-“

 

“Mother.” Takaya firmly cut her off. “Stop it. I don’t want to hear something like that.”

 

Misae’s stopped her fiddling and gave his son a good long stare. Takaya met her sharp gaze without flinching. “I don’t like him.” He muttered. “All he does is hurt people.” His gaze falls onto Mihashi’s squirming figure. _‘And one day, he’ll hurt us too.’_

 

The young mother could only chuckle in response. “Takaya,” she chided, smoothing down the side of his perfectly ironed uniformed. “You know that that’s what we do.” She said gently, resting her hand onto the emblem stitched onto the collar of her Yukata, a symbol of an infamous gang in the southern prefecture.

 

* * *

 

 

“Come on.” Takaya rushed past the blond boy, his hand finding it’s place between Mihashi’s fingers. “This is why I hate talking to her.”

 

“… Y-Y-You shouldn’t say… that.” Mihashi stuttered, glancing back at Misae’s back, worried that she might hear them.

 

“Say what? That I hate her and her bitchy-“ Takaya stopped when Mihashi yelped, his hand throbbing as they were clamped down between Takaya’s strong fingers “Sorry.” Takaya mumbled, all traces of stubbornness gone when he saw how distraught the boy looked. He took Mihashi’s hand and gently rub the smarting digits. “I got angry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 

Mihashi didn’t turn away from his touch, but Takaya could see just how terribly the boy was trying to hide his displeasure.

 

“What?” He grumbled. “Spit it out Ren. I hate it when you keep things to yourself.”

 

“Then!” Mihashi exclaimed loudly, this time his hand was the one gripping down onto Takaya’s. “I don’t like it… I mean… I _hate_ it when Takaya talks like that.” He said, his golden eyes steady as he gazed deeply into Takaya’s eyes. “That… is… when, you talk about your mother… it’s mean! Ane-san is Takaya’s mo..mother so…” Mihashi trailed off, the rest of his complaints turning into incoherent whispers as he shrunk back into his timid little shell.

 

“I know.” Takaya said, looking rightly ashamed that Mihashi had to tell him off like that.

 

“Taka is a good boy… so you shouldn’t-“

 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

 

Mihashi frowned at him, unsure if he believed his sincerity. “Ok… As long as Taka understands…” He said, interlocking their hands together, forgiveness flowing generously like midsummer’s rain.

 

Takaya closed his eyes, relishing Mihashi’s gentle touch. “Yeah. I understand Ren.” He sighed, pulling the boy close until they are walking shoulder to shoulder together.

 

They took their time together, all thoughts of school banished from their adolescent mind. All they could think about was just how good it feels to be with each other, and how they wished they could utter the words of love that’s been brewing deep in their hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> Oofuri is going out of hiatus next month. HYPE!


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